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VladimirFitz's Journal
The Darkness that surrounds me..
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Ich bein haust...
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January 29, 2008, 10:26:pm
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So I'm a little sick of people in general..At this point I'd like to curl up in a assball and only talk to people on the internet..why you may ask???? well the truth of the matter is I don't do well talking to people because well so many people do stuff like talk with food in their mouth or mummble or even spit when they talk and you don't get that when your online..THANK GOD....so yeah I'm gonna stay out of the public till I have to go back to work on thursday..
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THERE IS A SECRET WORLD CONCEALED WITHIN THIS ONE.
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November 27, 2007, 11:53:pm
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I cant find the original writers name..but here you go..
This world, the so-called “real world,” is just a front. Pull back the curtain and you’ll see the libraries are all filled with runaways writing novels, the highways are humming with escapees and sympathizers, all the receptionists and sensible mothers are straining at the leash for a chance to show how alive they still are. . . and all that talk of practicality and responsibility is just threats and bluffing to keep us from reaching out our hands to find that heaven lies in reach before us.
You can taste it in the shock and roar of a first, unexpected kiss, or in the blood in your mouth that instant after an accident when you realize you’re still alive. It blows in the wind you feel on the rooftops of a really reckless night of adventure. You hear it in the magic of your favorite songs, how they lift and transport you in ways that no science or psychology could ever account for. It might be you’ve seen evidence of it scratched into bathroom walls in a code without a key, or you’ve been able to make out a pale reflection of it in the movies they make to keep us entertained. It’s in between the words when we speak of our desires and aspirations, still lurking somewhere beneath the limitations of being “practical” and “realistic.”
When poets and radicals stay up until sunrise, wracking their brains for the perfect sequence of words or deeds to fill hearts (or cities) with fire, they’re trying to find a hidden entrance to it. When children escape out the window to go wandering late at night, or freedom fighters search for a weakness in government fortifications, they’re trying to sneak into it—for they know better than us where the doors are hidden. When teenagers vandalize a billboard to provoke all-night chases with the police, or anarchists interrupt an orderly demonstration to smash the windows of a corporate chain store, they’re trying to storm its gates.
When you’re making love and you discover a new sensation or region of your lover’s body, and the two of you feel like explorers discovering a new part of the world on a par with a desert oasis or the coast of an unknown continent, as if you are the first ones to reach the north pole or the moon, you are charting its frontiers.
It’s not a safer place than this one—on the contrary, it is the sensation of danger there that brings us back to life: the feeling that for once, for one moment that seems to eclipse the past and future, there is something real at stake.
Maybe you stumbled into it by accident, once, amazed at what you found. The old world splintered behind and inside you, and no physician or metaphysician could put it back together again. Everything before became trivial, irrelevant, ridiculous as the horizons suddenly telescoped out around you and undreamt-of new paths offered themselves. And perhaps you swore that you would never return, that you would live out the rest of your life electrified by that urgency, in the thrill of discovery and transformation—but return you did.
Common sense dictates that this world can only be experienced temporarily, that it is just the shock of transition, and no more; but the myths we share around our fires tell a different story: we hear of women and men who stayed there for weeks, years, who never returned, who lived and died there as heroes. We know, because we feel it in that atavistic chamber of our hearts that holds the memory of freedom from a time before time, that this secret world is near, waiting for us. You can see it in the flash in our eyes, in the abandon of our dances and love affairs, in the protest or party that gets out of hand.
You’re not the only one trying to find it. We’re out here, too . . . some of us are even waiting there for you. And you should know that anything you’ve ever done or considered doing to get there is not crazy, but beautiful, noble, necessary.
Revolution is simply the idea we could enter that secret world and never return; or, better, that we could burn away this one, to reveal the one beneath entirely.
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Chaos is Beautiful By Feral Faun
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November 27, 2007, 12:26:am
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Chaos has been much maligned and slandered. Even most anarchists refuse to associate themselves with chaos. It has been equated with murder or mayhem. Yet this should be obvious that this is the lying propaganda of the forces of order. For the history of the imposition of order is the history of increasing warfare, murder, rape, mayhem, and oppression. Order not chaos destroys wantonly for it cares only to impose it’s form on all beings.
Only those who dare to be avatars of chaos can stand against the murderous rule of order.
But if chaos is not murder and mayhem as we have been told, then just what is it? Is it disorder? No, for disorder requires order, chaos is beyond order. Disorder os order fucking up. The universe is naturally chaotic. When someone tries to impose order upon of it, the order will inevitably come into conflict with the chaotic universe and will start to break down. It is this breaking down order that is disorder.
Undisturbed by order, chaos creates balance. It is not the artificial balance of scales and weights, but the lively, ever-changing balance of a wild and beautiful dance. It is wonderful, It is magical. It is beyond any definition, and any attempt to describe it can only be a metaphor that never comes near to it’s true beauty and erotic energy.
Our freedom depends on learning to be part of chaos’ exotic dance. To do this we need to get in touch with our animal instincts, our deepest desires. We need to reject every form of authority, external and internal, for all repress our instincts. We must not seek to be masters of ourselves so that we are our lives.
By taking freedom and pleasure for our selves now, we become part of a beautiful dance of chaos. We become involved in the magical adventure of creating paradise on earth now. The bloody history of order ceases to be the only reality we know and the beauty of chaos begins to show through. For chaos is beautiful, the ecstasy of androgynous Eros shining throughout the universe.
Live the Chaos
Music: System of a Down-Toxicity
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Its been a little while..
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November 25, 2007, 10:51:pm
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I never wished for love,
But found it when it came,
I never fell before,
But I loved it when it rained,
um yeah thats it for now..I'll keep working on it just kinda like blaw right now..
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